infantry to get through when they got over. Our ammunition was of the
best; we now took no chance on any defective goods. We had 20 rounds of
shell for each gun. When we got the order--"Fire!" gaps were torn in the
wire by my gun, and the other gun had blown away some small ridges. We
were going strong when a shell--the very first one--took our other gun,
blowing it and the crew into nothingness. We went on firing until we had
exploded 18 shells and had made several gaps in the wire, when, without
a moment's warning, our trench mine exploded. The trenches were packed
with troops ready for the word. A mountain of debris was shot in the air
and back over us, burying a number of soldiers in the trench, where they
died miserably from suffocation. The concussion was so powerful that it
blew the shield of my gun off downwards, cleaving Corporal King's skull
in twain and blowing Gunner MacDonald, who was sitting on the handspike
of the gun, 20 feet away. When we found him next day, every bone in his
body was broken. I was sitting on the gun alongside of Corporal King at
the time of his death, and how I escaped is more than I can tell. Again
I couldn't help speculating that my life must have been spared for some
good purpose; I sincerely hope so.

It was impossible to do any further firing, as the muzzle of the gun was
choked completely with the dirt that had been shot backward by the
explosion of our own mine. Our misfortune, however, did not prevent or
deter for a moment the intended movement. Unable to do anything further
as a gunner, I hopped into the charge with the 48th Highlanders of
Toronto, who had just started with one of their old-time yells to go out
and over. When we reached the German front lines,--or what was left of
them, for the explosion had blown from them all semblance of a
trench,--it was jammed full of German troops--dead. On we went,
inclining to the right and reaching an orchard in which was a nest of
them concealed in the trees. Those on mother earth were speedily driven